


curse of the contemporary

by Jo_B



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Episode: s02e24 No Reason, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:07:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23958916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jo_B/pseuds/Jo_B
Summary: "Suspended in the second day of a coma, Schrödinger’s patient is both fully recovered and fully dead, and Wilson isn’t going to know for sure until House either opens his eyes andseeshim caring in his seat by the side of the ICU bed or dies. There’s probably a middle ground somewhere, but he’s sure House is tired of those."--A few missing scenes from 2x24, "No Reason."
Kudos: 8





	curse of the contemporary

**Author's Note:**

> lol i'm 16 years late to the party but i started watching House during quarantine - i'm on season 3
> 
> this episode disappointed me a little, so i tweaked it a little

There is no precise reason for him to think of House when alarms start blaring through the hospital – except for the fact that the man cannot exactly run. He is in the middle of a PCR test in an empty lab, feet frozen to the floor for a single moment. He hears two distant _pops_ and nothing more than chaos _._ His heart is in his ears.

There is no precise reason for it. There are three able-bodied young adults to help, and a large, solid desk the man is often eager to hide behind when an electronic voice over the PA is _not_ instructing the hospital to go into lockdown. Training sessions echo in his ears. Move patients out of harm’s way, lock the doors, shut the blinds. Run, hide, fight.

Wilson does none of the above. There is no _precise_ reason, but there is a broad one: he’s met House. More than once. For better or worse, he leaves the blinds open and unlocks the door and runs up the stairs – which ends up being particularly moot. The sight of blood on the carpet, smeared on the glass, and spotting the hallway floor will send him back down the stairs anyway.

* * *

The sight of all three fellows shell-shocked and useless outside an operating room gives him pause. All three have been crying to various degrees – something unexpected, though he isn’t exactly sure why. House hired each of them, in part, with the expectation that it would take a great deal to stun, shock, or surprise them away. Wilson had agreed that that kind of resilience was a required trait for anyone in the department, but their thought experiments had never included anything like this.

Cameron has blood-splatter on her face and stares at him like he is the one single authority on all things Gregory House, and though she may be right, he doesn’t quite appreciate the weight of that assessment.

Chase’s voice shakes as he fills him in. Shot twice at close-range, paddled once so far from what he could hear through the OR door. Wilson’s legs are not exactly stable. He takes it all in, nods his head, and hovers for a moment. Any of them could easily walk upstairs and observe the surgery through the glass, but none of them will. Out of sight, out of scope.

* * *

It’s counterintuitive, but House has a peculiar talent for not being seen until the very last second. Not until he wants you to see him. He used that talent often with Wilson in the beginning, often followed by a mischievous smirk whenever he could elicit a surprised jump. As much as Wilson tried to emulate it, he could never quite succeed. House always managed to know where he was.

_I can hear you caring!_

He hopes his friend can hear it now because he wants to be noticed. He wants this to be all okay, and House is both going to be okay and _not_ going to be okay, all at once, the indecisive bastard that he is. Keeps him on his toes. Suspended in the second day of a coma, Schrödinger’s patient is both fully recovered and fully dead, and Wilson isn’t going to know for sure until House either opens his eyes and _sees_ him caring in his seat by the side of the ICU bed or dies.

There’s probably a middle ground somewhere, but he’s sure House is tired of those.

Cuddy appears and catches his eye by the door. She’s been crying, too, if trying her damndest to hide it. He wants to ask how confident she is that the ketamine will work, because it will either work _perfectly_ or not at all, but now is not the time for it. She offers him a tired half-smile and goes on her way.

Hours later, Wilson doesn’t catch the moment House’s eyes come half-way, then full-way open, but he jumps when he suddenly turns his head.

A stunned, shocked, scared, relieved sigh.

“You asshole.”

* * *

Wilson takes only a little bit of pleasure in the groan House offers at having been forced awake.

“Up and at ‘em,” he announces far too loudly, cheerily punctuating with a gentle push. “The day waits for no man.”

“No.” The response is muffled into a pillow, but Wilson makes it out well enough.

“Oh, well in that case.”

The blankets get pulled right off, which is met with a frustrated sigh, which is met with insistence: “Go brush your teeth and walk a little, then you can go back to sleep if you truly _must._ You’re going to get a blood clot.”

“I hear the second time is more fun,” House offers, slowly pushing himself up to sit on the side of the bed. “My stomach hurts.”

Wilson stares at the stitches on his neck, though not for any particular medical reason. “That would be the _curse_ of surviving,” he supplies. “You were shot there. It’s going to hurt.”

“Oh, yeah.” Half-sarcasm, followed by a rare moment of silent reflection. He carefully gets up and starts to walk toward the bathroom. He pauses for a moment to turn back around.

“You okay?” Wilson asks.

A nod. “Thank you.”

A smile. “Evidently not.”


End file.
